


Adrenaline Is a Kind of Relief

by etherealApostate



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Blood, Flogging, Knifeplay, M/M, NSFW, Oral, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, misaru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 07:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11504286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealApostate/pseuds/etherealApostate
Summary: Just some of that kinky misaru shit, cause i felt like it. this is not meant to be a handbook of proper bdsm practices, so to speak, but neither is it meant to be an unsafe/abusive depiction. please do your own research on health and safety before attempting anything depicted in this fic.





	Adrenaline Is a Kind of Relief

“Come on,” Yata said. His voice went low and rough: “We both know what you want.” 

 

Saru swallowed slowly. 

 

“Say it,” Yata growled.

 

A moment’s pause. “Please,” Saru stated.

 

“Please  _ what _ ?”

 

“Please… whip me -- “ The first strike came before Saru had even finished, and his throat tightened in a high gasp as the flogger spread in impact on his bare ass, then again; Saru bit into the pillow under his face, his cock twitched involuntarily, he was desperate already, though he wasn’t sure whether he was desperate for the pain to continue or for it to stop. No -- scratch that. Saru knew what he wanted. He wanted destruction.

 

“Let’s get this straight,” Yata said, in words that sounded like bare flesh being dragged hard over gravel, “I’m not doing this because I enjoy it. It’s because it’s  _ good for you _ .” 

 

Saru heard the flogger crack again and reeled from the pain, this time against his shoulder and upper ribs. He shuddered as Yata bent over him and dug the strong nails of one hand into the thin, bone-shadowed flesh of his back. 

 

“Now, count,” Yata drew into Saru’s ear, and drew back suddenly. Saru could picture him without needing to look: about now, Yata would be standing with his flogger-arm drawn back, clavicles strung with taut muscle. And for one blessed time, Saru knew what to say without needing to think. 

 

“Yes, sir,” he said. 

 

_ Crack. _

 

_ “ _ One,” Saru said, as the pain resounded in his nerves. 

 

“Two.” 

 

By lash twenty, Saru could feel something beading on his back, and the streaks running deeper in the skin with every drag and sharp hit of the flogger. He was vaguely aware that Yata was panting, but Saru’s own breathing was controlled by the rhythm, by only the rhythm, of  _ crack, pain, count _ . Over and over and over.

Finally, he emerged from the haze of numb pain long enough to realize two things: the beating had stopped, and Yata was standing beside him again. Yata had one hand on his own bare, throbbing cock; the other hand held the flogger (now limp, no longer animated with the electric force of its strikes). Then he dropped the flogger, and tangled a hand deep in Saru’s hair to pull his head painfully backwards and lick at the vague drops of salty sweat forming on his forehead. The next thing Saru knew, he was gazing deep into Yata’s hazel eyes, and they seemed to spark with intensity. 

 

“Tell me what you want,” Yata ordered, and Saru saw a glint in his lover’s other hand -- Yata had produced  _ one of Saru’s own knives, goddamnit,  _ from the bedstand, and was now moving to trace it lightly over Saru’s shoulder--

 

Saru could only manage a weak shudder as the knife first tickled against his shoulderblade, then dug into one of the cuts from the flogger, slowly enough that Saru could feel each palpitating nerve rending under the cold metal --

 

And in one quick stroke, Yata had swept upwards and cut the cord securing Saru’s wrists to the bedframe, and rolled Saru onto his side to face Yata, and bit into the side of his neck hard. Saru’s eyes went wide, foggy with lust and pain as Yata sucked hard on the vulnerable skin right under the jawbone, then let go to run his tongue over and over the sensitive spot behind Saru’s ear -- 

 

And now the hand in Saru’s hair was tightening again, his head was being tilted, and now his eyes were open and level with Yata’s red, pulsing cock, as Yata’s other hand dug at the cuts on his back and smeared the blood over his skin --

 

Without thinking (god, he loved it, he loved how he didn't even have to think, not now, not here), Saru opened his mouth, leaned forward to lick and suckle at the cock in front of him, savoring the single fat drop of precum hovering at the tip, and Yata let out a sigh of yearning. Saru looked up, half of Yata’s cock engulfed in his mouth, and saw Yata licking blood -- _ Saru’s blood _ \-- from his fingertips, while his other hand guided Saru up and down on his rod. 

 

Their eyes locked, and the savage gaze that Yata met him with woke some devouring hunger: Saru braced one hand on the mattress and leaned in, taking Yata’s cock all the way to the base, relishing the feeling of penetration as his throat opened up fully, and he swallowed around the thick meat invading his throat, resisting the urge to gag. Yata’s moan met his ears, and now the hand in his hair was jerking him back and forward, and pushing deep enough each time that the tip hit the back of his throat, and that he would almost gag. Saru went numb to the movement, numb to the pain on his back and the soreness in his wrists: all that mattered was Yata, making Yata feel good, pumping up and down on his cock again and again. Saru began to moan around Yata’s dick, his own member throbbing hot and untouched. He reached down but his hand was instantly pulled back, and he used it instead to wipe the drool from his chin and spread it on Yata’s shaft instead, using it as lubricant to stroke the few inches he couldn’t take in his mouth each time. He noticed that Yata’s breathing was becoming more and more labored -- and then Yata’s thighs stiffened, and Saru found his head pressed all the way down on Yata’s shaft, and once again he was resisting the urge to vomit, throat clenching uncontrollably as Yata’s cock flooded its warm seed down his throat with irrepressible, animal vigor. 

 

Saru sucked gently as the last few spurts trickled down into his stomach, and his throat clenched involuntarily, somewhere between swallowing and gagging. Saru realized that the hand knotted in his hair had loosened, and was slowly pulling his head from the cock it had briefly been one with, then tilting his head backwards, and then Saru’s gaze was lost again in the warm and wide-pupiled hazel of Yata’s eyes. 

 

Deliberately, Saru licked his lips. Yata leaned forward, and kissed him deeply, tongue pushing in to flick at the undersides of Saru’s teeth before pulling back. 

 

“Are you ok?” he asked. 

 

A slow nod from Saru. “Yeah. That’s…. I needed that.” He could feel the remnants of the adrenaline fading away, leaving his veins feeling purged.

 

Yata wiped some sweat from his brow and gave Saru a quick kiss on the cheek. “Lemme grab the disinfectant ‘n bandages.” 

 

“Sure.” Saru rolled onto his stomach; the blood on his back was already drying uncomfortably. He tried twisting his spine a bit. No pain. Flexing his shoulders hurt a little more, but not unbearably. Almost no blood on the sheets. 

 

Yata returned, kicking open the door and holding an armful of ice packs and first aid equipment. “C’mon, babe, let’s clean you up.” 

 

Saru nodded, the fog of their scene clearing a little from his head as he grabbed a kleenex from the bedside table, and the disinfectant from Yata's hands. He twisted his arm backwards, trying to reach the shallow cut behind his shoulder, only to have Yata snatch the kleenex out of his hand, and push him down, and daub at the blood insistently. 

 

"Let  _me_ ," Yata said. 

 

"Whatever," Saru sighed, and shrugged, even though it stung a little. He waited patiently as Yata disinfected the wounds; the mixture of pain from the alcoholic liquid in the cuts, and pleasure from Yata's gentle touches to his sensitive back had him still erect. "You know, you never really finished me."

 

"I know!" Yata said defensively, and Saru heard a Band-Aid being ripped open with the usual verve. "Figured it'd be more intense for you that way. If I had you on the ropes, y'know what I mean?" 

 

Saru rolled his eyes. "Someone like you really shouldn't be allowed to pun." 

 

"Bitch, my puns are great and you know it." Yata stuck the last bandage gently over Saru's back, then reached around slowly to the front of his torso. Saru let out a long breath, feeling Yata's hand traveling slowly down. 

 

"Fine. Continue," he allowed. 

"Only if you behave." He could hear the smile in Yata's voice, and turned now, catching him fully in a sweaty, sloppy kiss, tasting summer heat in Yata's mouth, and together they fell back into the warm embrace of the sheets.


End file.
